


The File In The Frills

by UberVenkman



Category: BioShock, BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Gen, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UberVenkman/pseuds/UberVenkman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine breaking and entering in a disco club stirs memories for a detective we all know very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The File In The Frills

**Author's Note:**

> This is a proof-of-concept for a new fanfiction I'm working on. It's not the fanfiction itself, but it is set in the same universe and has the same lead. Sort of a Noir!AU. I emphasize the sort of.

The ground vibrated inside the club, which either meant a particularly bass-heavy song was playing (a likely scenario) or there was an earthquake in process (an unlikely scenario). Or maybe the point guard for a troll basketball team was dribbling the building with both hands at the same time (an even less likely scenario, not least because there's no such things as trolls, but also because you're not allowed to dribble with both hands at the same time in basketball).

The dance floor was stocked to the brim with people dressed in vaguely '80s getup—leotards, jumpsuits, miniskirts. The tiled floor flashed bright, loud colors, in sync with the music.

_"You can dance if you wannu, you can leave your friends behind…"_

Even the staff members were clad in pink and orange jumpsuits, serving drinks, hopping along. The whole scene was like a postmodern David Lynch sequence.

Yet despite the apparent uniformity of taste, one person seemed to stand out in the crowd of EDM-junkies. This woman was not clad in a leotard or a jumpsuit. She was wearing a black overcoat, a fedora, and an odd-looking device, mounted right over her right eye. She stood at the edge of the dance floor, looking out at the crowd of dancers, being careful to note the smell of cheap drinks and marijuana. She looked like she had been transported from a completely different era. The clothing suggested a hard-boiled 1920s detective, but the eye-piece suggested something of the more futuristic aspect. She was waiting for something to happen.

A finger tapped her shoulder. She looked to her right to see a woman staring at her. The woman was clad in a green bra top and a frilly pink skirt with hair done up in a massive ponytail parted on two sides.

"Not a dancer?" she asked, smiling.

The detective shrugged. "Not feeling it tonight."

"Well especially not in that outfit! You should've gone to a jazz club or something! They're probably as subdued as you over there!"

"But they're probably as drunk as you."

"Exactly: you're the odd woman out both here and there! Why don't I buy you a drink?"

And with that, she dragged the detective by the arm over to the bar.

"Dex! Two Angel's Kisses! One for me and one for Sherlock Holmes over here!" she barked.

The detective shifted nervously. "This is really unnecessary."

"Hey." The woman reached out and gripped the detective's hand. "Think of it as a gift. First drink in the best 1980s dance club in the city of Ascension…well, the only 1980s dance club in the city of Ascension."

The detective relaxed a little. "Well…fine then."

The woman smiled. "Name's Trixy, by the way."

The detective raised an eyebrow with clear doubt.

Trixy sighed. "Alright, my name's actually Tanya Orwell, but the regs here call me Trixy."

"Suitable."

"Yeah. So…I tell you my name, you tell me yours?"

"Courtnee," the detective replied.

Trixy snickered. "Seriously?"

"Ah come on. You go by a name like Trixy, I go by a name like Courtnee. Courtnee Draper."

A napkin with a lipstick mark on it was placed in front of Trixy. She took one look at it, then at the person who placed it. "Not tonight, honey."

The person shrugged and went back to the dance floor.

"What was that about?" Courtnee asked.

"It's a thing we have going on here. Put a lipstick mark on a napkin, give it to someone, that's an invitation to either get to know each other or to get to _know_ each other."

Courtnee squinted her eyes.

Trixy lifted two fingers over her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and began swirling it around between them. "Or," she added, putting her hand in a fist and making a jerking motion in front of her mouth.

"No, no, I get it," Courtnee said, looking rather disgusted.

The two drinks were pushed forward. "Order up," the bartender announced. "And get a room," he added, staring at Trixy with equal disgust.

"Aw, lighten up."

"Lighting up is usually what causes that behavior in here."

Before Trixy could reach for her drink, she noticed Courtnee drop something in her own glass. "You're not trying to roofy me, are you?"

"Relax," Courtnee said, swishing her drink around. "It's a digestive. Stomach gets a little weird with alcohol." She looked out at the dance floor. "So you're a regular."

Trixy looked out at the mish-mosh of dancers. "Oh yeah, been here since they opened it. It's like family to me. I make sure everyone gets their share of the fun." She looked at Courtnee, reached out a finger, and gently tapped at her nose. "Which is why I went and singled you out, Sherlock."

Courtnee smiled. "Well," she said, picking up her drink. "To the '80s."

"To the '80s. Cheers."

They both downed their glasses, Trixy taking it in, Courtnee swallowing the whole thing like it was a simple shot.

Trixy stared at Courtnee. "That must be some digestive. Most people start gagging after drinking that one."

"Guess I'm full of surprises," Courtnee shrugged. She belched. "Oof, strong stuff. You know, maybe if I let this one sit, I'll feel like dancing."

"Well, I'm already drunk." Trixy stood up. "Come join me when you can, Sherlock." With a slight whip of her hair, she strutted back onto the dance floor.

Courtnee sat there for a moment, staring at the drink. "Hey, can I get a refill?" she asked.

As she waited, she casually glanced at her watch. 11:34. Plenty of time.

She let the drink slide right in front of her. Strangely, she did not take out another pill and drop it in the glass. Instead, she picked up the glass, began drinking it, and clandestinely pressed a button on the grey cuff that her coat sleeve had hidden.

There was a loud clunk on the dance floor. After a brief pause, a small crowd began to form around the woman in the green bra top and frilly pink skirt who had suddenly been rendered unconscious. The crowd grew as various staff members and patrons began running over to see what the fuss was about.

The detective (who, as you might guess, was not actually named Courtnee Draper) quietly finished her drink, ignoring the commotion.

The device over her eye beeped. From out of it came a West-Country-British-accented voice. _"Really, Ms. DeWitt. 'Courtnee?'"_

"Hey, if she's dumb enough to not notice me switch glasses while she's looking at the dance floor, then she's dumb enough to fall for a name like that," Detective Anna DeWitt replied. "She probably thinks it's spelled with an 'E-Y', anyway." She wiped her mouth off with her sleeve. "She's got good taste in drinks, though. Maybe I'll call her when she wakes up." She paused. "Was she flirting with me?"

_"Her skin temperature was steadily increasing during your conversation. I cannot conclude if it was due to attraction or she has been drinking alcohol."_

"Could be both," Anna shrugged. "If so, I'm flattered."

_"Ms. DeWitt, I will remind you that it is not advisable to pursue romantic relations with assets."_

Anna got up from her stool and began making her way to the abandoned "Employees Only" door. "I wouldn't call her an 'asset,' Alec. Maybe stress relief after that business with—"

"Hold it!"

She stopped in her tracks. "Dammit," she whispered. She turned around to face a burly security guard looking right at her.

"You can't go in there!" he shouted. "Can't you read the sign?"

"Can't you see the commotion?"

"Sure I see it. Doesn't mean you can go in there."

Anna looked at the crowd. "Well, I figure with everyone over there, no one's gonna notice you over here."

The guard looked. "Huh?" And then, "HEEK!" as a small dart landed in his neck, launched from Anna's cuff. After wavering in the air for a bit, he toppled onto his side.

Anna grabbed his arm and dragged him with her into the employee's only section.

* * *

"Alec, what was the dosage on that one?" Anna whispered as she lay the security guard down on a chair.

 _"Approximately five minutes,"_ Alec replied. _"You better hope this is just a simple hit and run job."_

Anna stopped. "How many times have I told you not to use that phrase?"

_"Apologies. Old habits die hard."_

"Just tell me where to go."

_"There should be a staircase coming up on your right."_

As Anna reached the stairs, she spotted a slight shimmer of light, cast off from behind her route.

"Shit," she whispered, leaping through the threshold and into the stairwell. She listened.

"Must be something in the drinks," a female voice grumbled. After a pause, "Ah, Mugsy's sleepin' on the job again."

"Should we draw whiskers on his face again?" a male voice asked.

"Eh, let him rest. We got plenty of other things on our mind. Did you find the Tabasco?"

"You know, for a dance club, we're not very good at organizing refrigerators. Here ya go."

"Right. This oughta get Trix outta her slumber."

Anna chuckled. "I wouldn't count on it." She heard the sudden sound of the dance floor music, then just as quickly its cessation. Satisfied, she started making her way up the stairwell.

"Alright Alec, more directions necessary."

_"Of course. The office is at the very top of the stairs. The owner's not supposed to be in tonight."_

Sure enough, the office was empty. A simple set-up: desk with computer and keyboard to one side with a window overlooking the main dance floor, and a whole bunch of file cabinets on the right side, one of them with a stack of papers precariously balanced, with a rather useless paperweight shaped like the head of the owner on top of them all. There was also a food printer next to the door, which Anna noticed was running low on protein. Her main focus, however, was the computer. She walked up to it and attached a small device to the hard drive.

"Alright Alec, access visual interface on the data oculus."

The thing over her eye beeped and projected an image before her, something akin to a tablet screen. She flipped through the pages before her before finding an application marked "Mobile Access," which she opened.

The device on the computer flashed.

 _"Access granted,"_ Alec announced.

"Query: Find instances of the name 'Bird'."

_"Searching…searching…searching…searching…searching…searching…searching…searching_ __…_ _ ___searching_ __…_ _ _ _ _____searching_ __…_ _ _ _ _ _ _______searching_ __…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _________searching_ _ _…_________ "_

"Alec!"

_"I will remind you, detective, that we are not in the movies. These take time."_

Anna impatiently tapped her foot.

Finally, Alec let out a brief chirp. _"All instances loaded. Most instances available in File 'Monument Island'. I'm unlocking the cabinet, but it's up to you to find the specific file."_

"On it."

The cabinet labeled "M" popped open. Anna hustled over to it and began sifting through the files.

_Montague…Montreal…Monument Island!_

Anna pulled the file out and flipped through.

_"Ah, Detective, while your client did not specify whether you could look at the file or not, I will remind you this is a simple hit and run job."_

Anna looked up, annoyed.

Alec, realizing his mistake, quickly said, _"I mean…go right ahead."_

Anna began flipping through the files again. "Not much in here of value. All this for 800 bucks?"

On first glance, all the file contained were a bunch of pictures. The pictures were, in this order: a picture of the Eiffel Tower in Paris; some painting of a frankly glamorous woman; an American flag; a hot dog stand (yum); a person with their intestines strung out (yuck); a boy dancing around with a baguette (what the fuck?); a shadowy image of something in the sky…wait a minute.

Anna picked up the image. The thing in the sky looked a bit like a bird. But not like any bird she'd ever seen. There were some notes on the image, pointing out calculations on how it was at least as wide as an apartment building, and how some glimpses (not caught on camera) suggested it was made out of leather.

There was another picture in the file. It was an image of some pendant, most likely meant to be worn around the neck: on it was the engraved symbol of a cage.

"I said you can't go back here!"

Anna turned around. Standing there was the security guard from before.

"Alec, you said five minutes!"

_"Evidently I did not account for his size when I made those calculations."_

"No shit!"

"Yeah, yeah, tell your AI to cool it, Samantha Spade," the guard smirked. "You're coming with me."

Anna's eyes darted around the room.

"Hey, what're you stalling for? I said move!"

"Fine," Anna said, stepping forward, and not so casually hitting her fist against the cabinet.

The guard looked puzzled. "What the hell was that f—" was all he managed to say before the pile of papers came tumbling down on him, followed by the paperweight landing directly on his head, knocking him out cold.

"Well, I ain't stickin' around," Anna shrugged. She closed the file cabinet, detached the device from the computer, stepped over the guard, and made her way out the door.

* * *

Thankfully, her exit from the offices went unnoticed, at least until that guard woke up. Odds were in favor of the blow to the head erasing the last ten minutes of his life. But she wasn't keen on hanging around the bars when he woke up, so she mingled with the crowd still out on the dance floor.

There were some paramedics gathered around Trixy now, who still hadn't recovered from the drug Anna had snuck into her drink.

"She's breathing," one of the paramedics called out. "Not sure what caused this yet. We'll have to take her to the hospital."

 _"Detective, are you going to leave that poor women unconscious for the rest of her life?"_ Alec queried.

Anna sighed. She reached for her cuff and triggered a small button.

Trixy's eyes shot open and she inhaled deeply, to several gasps from the crowd.

"What happened?" she asked, as if she had been awake the entire time. "And why does my head hurt?" she added. "And why does my mouth feel like it's on fire?"

Two of the paramedics helped her up while one of them scanned her with a med device. "She's…fine," he commented, closing it. "No trauma, no difference in blood levels…it's like nothing happened."

Trixy rubbed her forehead. "I was…I think I was talking to someone. Invited them out onto the dance floor…"

"You fell over," one of the DJs explained. She had abandoned her post to help out. "Out of nowhere. Suppose it was a date rape drug?"

The paramedic tapped his scanner. "Nothing came up in the blood scan, and we would've detected it if it were still active."

"It was a woman in a—" Trixy looked up to catch a glimpse of a woman in a black overcoat and a fedora slipping out the front door.

* * *

The Watched Clock diner, located miles away from the Club 80s, was not a remarkably tidy place. If you came here, it was for the service and the jukeboxes they had set up next to the tables, not for the décor, which reminded Anna of a Christmas lights and display contest. Yet to someone who had been coming here since she was a small child, it was home. The same waiter had served her from the start, and would always make sure she was in a good spot and had quick service.

The detective had parked herself in a booth next to the window, her usual spot. After ordering herself a cup of coffee and a Belgian waffle, she set the file on the table and began sifting through.

"Another tough case, huh?" the waiter asked, placing her coffee on the table.

"Just a simple find a file, copy it, and get paid sort of thing," Anna replied. She added some sugar and milk to her coffee and took a sip. "Great job again, Hiro."

"No problem," Hiro replied. "Hope it's a good amount—you need to pay off your tab one day."

Anna laughed. "We'll see about that. What's on the news today?"

"Well, one of the mining colonies on the moon just got quarantined."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Colony 12. Apparently some virus took over the entire population, taxi service to both the moon and Earth has been suspended until they can figure out what happened."

"Why Earth?"

"Well, they have enough problems down there," Hiro shrugged. "Why should we bring any of ours to them?" He gave one last smile before going back to the counter.

Now that she had a breather, she could focus the rest of the folder. She had caused a near disaster by waiting around and reading that file, she was not going to make that mistake again.

Her first order of business was to look at the pictures again. Nothing particularly notable about the image of the Eiffel Tower…well, at least not the tower itself. The picture was also of a street in Paris, with a movie theater marquee to the right, suggesting when this photo was taken.

" _La Revanche Du Jedi_ ," Anna read out loud. "'Revenge of the Jedi.' Well, that what it was called before Lucas changed it literally the day before the release."

 _"Yes, '_ Return of the Jedi _.' But why would a French marquee have that title?"_

"Hadn't had time to change it?"

_"They would not have put up a marquee unless the film was already playing. Look, it has the timetables and everything. The photo could very well be doctored;"_

"No sign of it. Lighting's consistent throughout. Wait…no, there's something on the edge."

Anna held the picture a little further away from her face. She noticed a slight glow around the edges of the photo.

"Is this a picture of an art gallery or something?" she asked, squinting.

_"If it is, that must be a very high quality picture this was taken of."_

Anna put down the Paris photo and picked up the one of the bird in the sky. She read the note to the side over and over again: SKIN OBSERVED TO BE MADE OF LEATHER. SCREECH HEARD FROM OVER 200 MILE RADIUS.

"What the hell am I looking at, really?" she asked to no one in particular.

She heard a distant rumbling. Her vision clouded. A red drop suddenly appeared on the picture, and Anna realized her nose was bleeding.

Something banged on the window next to her. Anna snapped out of her daze and looked over, confused.

* * *

**_A FACE!_ **

* * *

"Ah, fuck me," she muttered as she realized who it was. She quickly grabbed some napkins and began wiping the blood from her nose as the figure outside the window walked to the door, entered the diner, and sat in the seat across from Anna.

"Hello, Trixy," the detective stated with an embarrassed smile.

"Eh, call me Tanya," Trixy replied. "We're not in the club, I figure it's alright to use my real name."

"And some more conservative clothing apparently."

Tanya had thrown on a pair of slacks, a black T-shirt, and sneakers. Her hair was still done up, though. "Well, I guess frills are for when I'm in character."

"How'd you know I was here?"

"Followed you. Ran out of the club, noticed your speeder, trailed you in my own car."

"And I didn't even notice you."

"Nope."

There was a long pause.

Finally, Anna broke it. "Hey, Hiro! Can my friend here have a cup of coffee?"

"Is she gonna pay for it?"

Anna looked at Tanya. "Are you?"

"Don't you owe me for the Angel's Kiss I gave you?"

Anna clenched her teeth and made an _oopsy_ face.

Tanya smiled. "I'll pay for it, Hiro!" she called out.

"Well good for you! I'll be right on it!"

Tanya leaned forward. "Alright, game's up, Courtnee Draper—and I'm pretty sure that's not even your real name."

Anna smiled. "DeWitt. Anna DeWitt. I'm a detective."

"As I figured. Why'd you drug me?"

Anna hesitated. "You must understand, I don't usually have conversations like this, with people I used for my own interests."

"Only natural. I don't usually have conversations with people who used me for their own interests."

"Touché. See, I needed a distraction. Someone hired me to steal a file from the owner of the Club 80s."

Tanya looked puzzled. "Who?"

"I wish I could tell you. About five hours ago I got an email with a blueprint of the backstage area, directing me there. They told me to find what they called 'the bird.'"

"Bird? Why would they want a file with a bird in it?"

"No clue. All they said is that once I found the file, they would get me $800 swift. I'm never one to turn down money."

"And you're ever one to use it, either," Hiro commented as he gave Tanya her coffee. "Seriously, Anna, Jazz is gonna freak if you don't pay up soon."

"I'll get to it, jeez!" Anna insisted. "Anyway, they told me the owner wouldn't be in the office, I just needed to get in and out. Place was crawling, so I put the drug in my glass, distracted you for a moment, switched the drinks around, and let you swallow it."

"How'd you make me conk in and out so quickly? I've never heard of a drug doing that."

Anna raised her cuffs. "Nano-technology," she explained. "A family friend made it. It's a heavily modified version of chloral hydrate, a chemical they used to use to knock people out. I can activate it and deactivate it by pressing one of these buttons."

"Gonna do it again?"

"Nah, it's single usage. It's not like IT: you can't try turning it on and off again."

Tanya took a sip of her coffee. "Hmm," she commented. She looked up at Hiro, who was still standing there. "Great stuff. Didn't expect it from the décor of this place."

"Yeah, no one does," Hiro shrugged. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"Coffee's good enough. I'll just get the check."

"Right away." Hiro rushed off.

Tanya took another sip of the coffee. "Can I take a look at that file?"

Anna closed up the folder and handed it across the table.

As Tanya began looking through, she glanced up at Anna. "You know, you look a little young to be a detective."

Anna laughed. "Sure. Was never supposed to be one, really. I was taking the pre-med track, my dad was the detective." She leaned back. "'Booker DeWitt, greatest private eye in Bradley Heights.' Well, only one." She crossed her arms. "Not anymore."

"Oh, he's dead?"

"Hit by a car almost four years ago. I had to drop out of school, take over the business. But I inherited some neat gadgets from him." She tapped the data oculus. "Mobile computer." She pointed at the cuffs. "Controls for various devices." She made a slight open-ended motion. "And of course, the Ascension Law Enforcement Console."

 _"Alec, for short,"_ Alec chirped.

"Yeah. He taught me how to use these things right up to the day I left for college."

Tanya took out the photo of the painting. "I think he'd be proud of you."

"Yeah," Anna unfolded her arms and leaned on the table. "But he's not here anymore, so I got no one to tell me that."

"Well…" Tanya turned over the photo of the painting a few times. "I know I'd be."

Anna raised an eyebrow quizzically.

Tanya put the photo back in the file. "Let me put it this way: you've taken up a family job, you knew the diversionary tactics to make sure no one saw you break into the backstage area, and you managed to knock out Mugsy."

Anna was surprised. "How'd you know his name?"

"It's a pity you were on a fool's chase," Tanya shrugged, ignoring the question and handing the file back. "Whoever set you up to this is probably the one who put the file in that cabinet in the first place."

"How do you know?"

Tanya finished her coffee. "Because I organize that cabinet every day, and I have never seen those pictures until now."

Anna stared at the woman across the table. But before she could say anything, Hiro came up with the check for Tanya and a Belgian waffle for the detective.

"Here ya go," he said to the both of them. Then, to Tanya specifically, "I hope the coffee will convince you to become a regular here, Ms. Cohen."

"Just might," Tanya shrugged.

"You're the owner of the Club 80s," Anna said, floored.

"LeSandra Cohen, at your service," Tanya nodded as she put some bills on her check. "Socialite, businesswoman, and _adopted_ daughter of Ascension avant-garde artist Sander Cohen. Got both the first name and the surname to prove it my lineage. On top of all that, noted 80s buff. That's 1980s, not the 2280s. The 2280s were boring...or, so I'm told."

"She's on the news all the time," Hiro explained as he took the check back to the register. "Can't believe you didn't recognize her, detective."

Anna was still flabbergasted by this revelation. "I mean, all I could think when I saw you at the window was 'hey, it's the girl with the funny name with the frilly dress, the green bra top, and the Ariana Grande hairdo.'"

"Like I said, I was in character," LeSandra shrugged. "That way, I get to hop around in my own club without getting flagged down for an autograph or a picture. Tanya Orwell's my other alias in case someone who doesn't recognize me doubts the name 'Trixy'…like you did, detective."

"Uh…Ms. Cohen, I'm sorry I drugged you…and knocked out your security guard."

"Eh, it's no trouble. Mugsy's had worse shit happen to him."

Anna nervously tapped her hand. "Are you gonna tell the police I broke into your office and stole something? I'm in pretty hot water with Sullivan right now…"

"Relax, DeWitt, you're off the hook. Besides, like I said, that file's not mine. Whoever hired you set you up for this."

Anna pulled out the picture of the cage pendant again as she took a bite out of her waffle. "I don't know why…" she said, staring at it. "But there's something familiar about this photo."

LeSandra leaned forward. "Hey, there's some writing on the back."

Anna turned the picture around. Clumsily written on the back in marker were the words, " **BIRD OR CAGE?** "

"Huh."

"Umm…you're bleeding, DeWitt."

"Huh?" Anna realized her nose was running again. "Weird."

"That was happening when I went up to the window."

"Yeah…" She grabbed a few napkins and wiped it off. "Might have to check that out." She took one last at the photo before putting it down. "Well, despite the crap I've pulled tonight, I hope I haven't been too much of a nuisance."

"No trouble. Hope you find out what's going on." LeSandra grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. "And come by the Club 80s anytime. But if you want a look in my file cabinet, just ask me next time." She picked up her purse, got out of the booth, and walked out of the diner.

Anna took another bite out of her Belgian waffle. "Hey, Alec, you done with the scans?"

_"All finished and ready to send."_

"Then send it. I need my 800 bucks."

Alec whistled a few times, before making a slightly ugly honking noise. _"Detective, I just got a return to sender message."_

"What?"

_"The email address from the person that hired us does not exist."_

"But how'd we get the email in the first place?"

_"No idea, Detective."_

Anna stared at the files. "So that's it. We went through all that trouble for nothing."

Alec beeped again. _"Not for nothing, Ms. DeWitt. Notification from the bank: someone just transferred $800 directly into your bank account."_

Anna looked up in disbelief. "What the hell happened tonight?"

_"That's a mystery in itself. One you probably won't get paid for."_

Anna took another look at the file, flipping through the photos one last time.

_Bird or cage?_

"Maybe another time." She put it in her coat pocket, took another bite out of her waffle, and had a sip of coffee.

But then she noticed something sitting on the table: LeSandra's napkin from before.

Taking a closer look at it, she realized there was a very clearly-defined lipstick mark on there.

She looked to her side. Right outside the window was LeSandra Cohen, with a slight smirk on her face. She raised her two fingers to her mouth.

Anna gave a tired smile. "Not tonight, honey," she mouthed.

LeSandra shrugged resignedly, waved goodbye, and walked off to her car.

The detective downed the rest of her coffee, perhaps to sober up from the Angel's Kisses she had drunk earlier. "Hey, Hiro!"

"Yeah?"

She tapped the side of her data oculus. Immediately, the nearby register let out a _CA-CHING_ , and announced, _"_ ANNA DEWITT _has paid her tab of 792 dollars."_

Hiro looked back, amused. "What are you gonna do with the remaining $8?"

Anna looked at her empty cup and the remaining food on her plate. Then she took out a quarter and put it into the jukebox next to her.

"25 cents for a song," she announced, selecting some music. "Safety Dance" started blasting over the speakers. "And for $7.75—another waffle and more coffee, Hiro. I'm feeling it tonight."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the detective, there were two people standing across the street from the diner, a man and a woman.

"She remembered," the woman observed.

"I told you it would work," the man replied.

"No you didn't."

"Right, I was _going_ to tell you it would work."

"But you didn't."

"But I don't.

"You sure that's right?"

"I was going to tell you it would work?"

"No."

"The subjunctive?"

"That's not the subjunctive."

"Well, it must be. Syntax was invented over four centuries ago in this universe. What year is it, 2369?"

"So it seems. And here we are, in a city floating hundreds of thousands of miles from the Earth. And to think: for a city in space, they have the gall to name it something like 'Ascension.'"

"Constants and variables at it again."

"What will she do with those pictures?"

"Most likely, she will spend a week looking at them. Then, once she realizes she cannot glean anything else, she will put them away."

"And then?"

"And then it will be time for us to come back and finish the job."


End file.
